


a perfect sonnet

by deviont



Series: it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alex is a mess, Alex needs a hug, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Anxiety, Borderline Personality Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Past Relationship(s), Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, bc im Not Familiar with this site's tagging system, forgot that one oop, i forgot that soRR Y, john was really Not Nice, let me know if i fucked any of these up or missed anything, so if that makes u uncomfortable steer clear, the abusive relationship is lams, this is my first fic both online and on this site so be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-14 04:24:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7998469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviont/pseuds/deviont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>lately i've been wishing i had one desire<br/>something that would make me never want another<br/>something that would make it so that nothing mattered<br/>all would be clear then<br/>but i guess i’ll have to settle for a few brief moments<br/>and watch it all dissolve into a single second<br/>and try to write it down into a perfect sonnet<br/>or one foolish line<br/>[ COMPLETE ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. burn

Alexander had long since learned that every emotion had a temperature. He’d encountered sadness quite often in his life, and never before had it been like it is now. When his mother died, it had been icy, a freezing cavern that wrapped its icicle like claws around his heart and pulled it down somewhere that Alex hadn’t thought he’d ever escape from. When his brother ditched him, when his cousin committed suicide, when the hurricane hit...all of it had summoned the cold back into his chest cavity, an all consuming disgusting feeling that sent shivers down his spine even now. He’d lost so many people, thought that losing anyone else would freeze him over entirely…

Losing John wasn’t cold. Losing John was a raging inferno that set his heart aflame, sent sparks scattering across his vision until he was helpless to do anything but watch his entire life burn away, watch everything go up in smoke.

He hadn’t spoken at the funeral. Eliza and Laf had tried their damnedest to convince him to not go, but that was ridiculous. Alex had to go, had a whole speech planned out that he’d spent days writing. Explaining his and John’s relationship, that everything they did was because they loved each other, that everything _John_ did was because he loved Alex. An entire cathedral, no, an entire city of words that had been scratching at his throat and circling in his mind for years, years, _years_ -. The night before the funeral, Alex read through the speech and felt the bitter taste of bile climb up his throat, watched from some far away place as a hand - _that’s my hand_ \- held the speech over a candle. Watched as every significant word Alex had left crinkled away into black and grey ashes, because _the world has no right to my heart_ he had nothing to explain, no wrong doings to justify, only the memories of John and the beautiful love they shared _the world has no right to my heart._

So at the funeral, he sat in the back row, avoided as many people as he could, certainly any of John’s homophobic relatives, or any prying strangers who wanted to ask questions that implied things he didn’t want to think about, asked questions he didn’t want to answer because _the world has no right to my heart_ they had no right to ask anything about John, had no right to care and get involved now that John was being lowered into a hole. Eliza, bless her, went with him and stayed by his side throughout the whole thing, held his hand and squeezed it reassuringly whenever someone went up to the podium with a fake smile and even more fake words.

She stood with him when he knelt in front of the tombstone for what could’ve been minutes or hours, with a hand on his shoulder. She tried to pull him away when the sky opened up and rain poured down around them and a bitter laugh escaped Alex that eventually grew into a fit that had him bending over, and poor Eliza looked worried and scared but Alex couldn’t _help it_. It was too damn funny, of course it rained at John’s funeral, because _that hurricane followed me from St. Croix and destroys any semblance of happiness I manage to find_ rain took everything from him. Rain destroyed his home, his entire island, and it wasn’t happy that it had killed everyone in his village except him because he’d never been able to just _die_ -

Strong arms wrapped around him, and Alex’s jaw snapped shut with a firm click because, whoops, he’d said that all out loud. Whoever was hugging him couldn’t have been Eliza, because Eliza was small and dainty _I never deserved her_ and this person was rough and tall.

“Mon cher, please, let me take you home?” Lafayette. Alex had nodded, because he was so tired and he didn’t want to argue with Lafayette and claim he was fine and John was gone and he just wanted to go home. Lafayette and Eliza wouldn’t approve of what he planned to do once he got home, but they didn’t need to know. Nobody needed to know...

John was gone. He was gone, dead, buried beneath six feet of dirt and mud rubble and separated by a paper thin layer of wood and _so far gone_. Alex wanted to scratch his lesser known scars open, rip them up and tear them into unrecognizable lines drowning in fat globs of blood. But they were all he had left of John and their relationship, his proof that they were together even if it was never meant to last. So he’d taken one of his old razors _it still sits so nicely in my hand, the comforting caress of an old friend_ and slashed his wrists open. There were already so many scars there, _everyone knows how I destroy everything I touch_ nobody would notice one more. Cleaning the wounds and wrapping them was another form of catharsis, but the warmth quickly flared up into burning flames as he remembered how John used to help him care for his self-harm cuts, would kiss the bandage with the most tender care, “I love you” dancing on his lips-

Cruel, cruel, cruel _everyone knows how I destroy everything I touch_ words now flooded his senses, bitter curses he’d snapped at himself and ones he’d heard thrown at him. He ripped the bandages apart and watched the blood slide down his arm, only now noticing he was hyperventilating, sobbing on his bathroom floor. He felt like he was being burned at the stake, too many words and too many feelings and too many memories clawing at his chest and setting his _heart aflame, every part aflame-  
_

_This is not a game_.

He let himself be taken away by the memories of his mother, of St. Croix, of John, John, John, his mind going fuzzy and was he even real anymore? John had been his anchor, tethering him to this world, but John was gone so what was left of Alex?

Nothing.


	2. take a break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning alex has a panic attack/flashback in this chapter, and it contains john being an ass, so be careful!

Writing had always been Alex’s escape. Burying himself in his work helped him bury whatever unwanted emotions he was feeling. Beyond that, Washington was a good guy, had given Alex this job when he was fresh out of college with nothing but the clothes on his back and a double major in English and PoliSci. So writing being a coping mechanism ended up working to his favor as Washington quickly took notice of Alexander’s sharp tongue and poured assignments on him. Some would complain about the workload, but Alexander pushed through it if for no other reason than to see that smile, full of pride and kindness _john used to look at me like that. john stopped long before he died-_

Alex pushed that thought aside. He was here to work, to forget about John and Eliza and Lafayette and his incessantly buzzing phone and everything but the laptop before him. It had been...a couple days? since John’s funeral, since Alex decided it was time to get off his ass and do something useful, he was useful, he had to be useful _can’t you do anything right on your own?_ he could be **good**.

He glanced towards his phone in between essays, seeing a message from Eliza and Lafayette, both sent within the last couple hours.

 **Lagayette [ 11:24 p.m. ] >>** _alexander, do not do anything stupid_

Alex scoffed at that. When had he done anything that wasn’t stupid? Everything he did was a mistake, Laf _knew_ that, had seen him after John had punished him for some stupid thing he’d done.

 **Best of Women [ 10:48 p.m. ] >>** _alex, i know you’re hurting but please remember to take a break. you’ve been locked in your office for a week…_

Admittedly, that one caught him off guard. He could’ve sworn it’d been only a couple days, tops. It explained the bleariness in his vision, the shakiness of his hands, but he couldn’t stop now. He was on a roll, cranking out page after page, refining and drafting and writing, writing because he had nothing left and if he stopped for even a moment he’d remember everything and he’d break apart entirely and he couldn’t handle that he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t

He jumped at the sound of a knock on his door. Alex called out a raspy “come in!”, now noticing his dry, scratchy throat. Alex’s eyes narrowed immediately when he saw who had entered his office. He scrubbed furiously at his eyes, using what little strength he had left to contain the long-suffering sigh that was prowling on the tip of his tongue. “What do you want, Jefferson? I’m busy.”

Jefferson, for his part, looked rather uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and not quite meeting Alexander’s gaze. “Look, Hamilton, I’m not thrilled about this either, but Washington sent me.” Alex perked up at that. Did Washington have another big assignment for him? He was rapidly burning through the ones that had stacked up in his absence, and Alexander was in no mood to slow down. Jefferson read him immediately, because he quickly said, “Don’t get excited. He’s demanding you take a break from work.”

Alex immediately launched to his feet, placing his hands on his desk to cover his brief moment of dizziness upon standing. “What?! I don’t have time to take a break, I have work to do-”

“You’re ahead in your work by two and a half months, actually.” Both men were silenced by the booming voice of George Washington echoing into the room. He appeared in the doorway, prompting Jefferson to shuffle out of the way so George could address them properly. Hamilton forcibly hid his distaste as Jefferson wound up closer to his desk. He focused back in on his boss as he resumed speaking. “So I’d say you have plenty of time.”

Alex stiffened, shaking his head frantically. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need a break, I need to work, I have to be-” He cut himself off at the last second, because he’d almost revealed way too much. John was never happy when he said something that could give the wrong impression. _I have to be useful, I have to prove I can fend for myself, I can I can I can. I can be so good for you, John-_ A hand on Alex’s shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up to meet the concerned gaze of George Washington. Out of his periphery vision, Alex could see even Jefferson watching the exchange with mild worry. His cheeks burned with both embarrassment at letting himself get caught up in the presence of his boss and being on the verge of tears in the presence of his boss and _Thomas fucking Jefferson_. “I have to work, sir. I have to.” Alex hated the way his voice cracked, hated how weak he sounded. He wished the floor would just open up and swallow him.

“Go home, Alexander.” Alex looked up at Washington and still saw concern there, but there was also a firmness there that Alexander couldn’t defy. Still, almost to ensure Alex would listen, Washington added, “That’s an order from your commander.” And he wasn’t, hadn’t _technically_ been his commander for several years, but despite the loss of the title they hadn’t lost the type of relationship they had.

Still, Alex was as stubborn as ever, and offered one last half-hearted protest, “But, sir-”

“I’ve made up my mind, Alex. Two months paid leave.” Alex looked horrified for a moment, to the extent that George almost had to laugh. Normal people would be overjoyed at the idea of a two month paid leave vacation. Of course, Alexander was not like most people. Still, he knew a lost cause when he saw one, and begrudgingly agreed. Not like he had a choice. But it was ok, he could _still be useful i’m not bad i can be good_ bring his laptop home with him and just work from home. He packed his things together, his tense shoulders drooping only slightly when Washington, with a final squeeze, released his shoulder and disappeared into the hallway. Jefferson was still standing in the corner, an unreadable expression on his face.

Alex swallowed uncomfortably, not making eye contact as he said, “What are you still doing here, Jefferson?”

The other man looked almost surprised to be addressed, but that same discomfort appeared once he processed the question. “Washington wants me to take you to Monticello.”

 ** _what_**.

“What?!” Alex felt the heat of fury, but beneath that was the icy tendrils of fear, a reaction that had long since been drilled into him by John. _i can’t go to Monticello, i can’t spend my break with another man i can’t i can’t i can’t john will hate me i can’t-_

Alex’s breathing picked up, his heart pounding out a beat against his ribs and his chest felt like it would explode. Slowly, his office melted around him, revealing his shared apartment with John. Alex slammed his eyes shut in an attempt to hold off the memory, but it was no use.

 _“Alexander Hamilton!” Alex felt his heart rate increase. John only ever used that tone when he was in trouble, or when they were about to fuck. Considering the use of his full name, Alex figured it was the former. John burst into their room, anger dancing across his features. Alex flinched as the door was slammed shut, tried to calm himself down because, oh, it was one of_ those _nights.  
_

_Alex immediately jumped to his feet, obediently placing his hands behind his back and lowering his gaze to the floor. When John was this mad, he didn’t want Alex to look at him. Said that a disgusting person like him didn’t deserve to look at John. He gulped in an attempt to clear his voice of the fear he felt, John said_ showing fear was weak are you weak, alex? _“W-What is it, sir?”  
_

_“Don’t play dumb with me!” John spat, grabbing Alex and slamming him into the wall. “Where were you last night?”  
_

_Alex squirmed, closing his eyes. “I-I was with Lafayette! I told you earlier this week Laf wanted to see me, I left a note last night!”  
_

_“Oh, so you were out fucking someone else, huh?” John was seething, and Alex had seen him mad, but never this mad and he didn’t know what to do. He’d never gotten upset about Alex visiting Laf before, so why now?  
_

_“No! I love you, John, I would never-”  
_

_John scoffed, dragging Alex to the bed and slamming him down on the bed. “Let me remind you who you belong to, whore.” A sob escaped the smaller man as John ripped Alex’s clothes off. He pulled a knife out of his his pocket, finding the right area. Alex howled in agony as John carved into his hip. “You…” slice “...are…” slice “...mine.” slice. Tears were dripping down Alex’s face, he already had so many scars his body was already so disgusting why-  
_

_Strong arms wrapped around him, and Alex sunk into John’s embrace, hissing in pain as John pressed a rag covered in cold water against the wound. John peppered kisses to his temple, and Alex sobbed, hard. “Shh, shh, shh…it’s okay, Alex, it’s over. You know I only do this because I love you, right?” Alex nodded, John loved him and just wanted him to behave, that’s it, he just had to behave and everything would be fine. The rest of that night was spent with Alex fixing his mistake, making it up to John. It was hard and rough and fast and painful, but he deserved it. He had to learn his lesson._

When Alex came back to himself, he was collapsed on his office floor, tucked in the corner with his knees to his chest. He was crying, hands covering his ears as if it would block out the memory. He couldn’t think, he couldn’t breathe, he needed John where was John-

“Hamil…Alexander, breathe. Calm down, just breathe with me.” The voice was distant, far off, and one that Alex couldn’t immediately place to a person. A hand, softer than John’s ever was, softer than his own hands _i destroy everything i touch_ grabbed his, removing them from over his ears. His hands were now pressed against someone’s chest, moving with exaggerated breaths to help Alex match the slowed rhythm. He slowly managed to calm his heart rate, slow his frantic breathing, moving forward to rest his head against that chest and closing his eyes because God, he was so tired. “That’s it. In, two, three, four. Out, two, three, four, five, six.”

Alex reared backwards when he finally recognize that voice. “J-Jefferson! What are you-I-...” Jefferson held his hands up, in a gesture of surrender, but his eyes were sharp with worry and a sort of cold understanding that made Alex’s gut clench. He wasn’t supposed to have panic attacks and flashbacks in front of other people, it made them think things that weren’t true, and Alex felt like he was going to be sick.

“Easy, Alexander. Just breathe. You just had a panic attack, don’t strain yourself.” Alex moved to lean against the wall, hand instinctively moving to his hip. His first real scar, the first one John gave him that actually meant something. Marking his _you. are. mine._ property. “C’mon. I’m taking you to Monticello.” Alex looked up and resignedly took the hand Jefferson had outstretched. He didn’t really have much choice. He wasn’t sure why Washington was having Jefferson watch over him instead of Eliza or Laf. Jefferson hated him, and Alex hated Jefferson. That’s how it had always been, and how it would always be. Still, he was far too tired to argue.

As the other man led Alex out of the building, to his car, Alex couldn’t help but think that at least he wouldn’t have to answer any questions. Laf or Eliza would’ve interrogated him if he’d had a panic attack in front of them. He didn’t have to worry about that with Jefferson, because why would he care?

They hated each other, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorrynotsorry also a longer chapter woo!!  
> let me know if i made any mistakes or anything, half of this was written at 3 am so its likely! tell me what you thought, comments make my entire life tbh


	3. what comes next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall thank jug for this chapter coming out on time bc im in a bad spot tonight & i almost didnt finish this but i didnt want to disappoint someone by not giving them an update on their favorite fic. this chapter is to you bc???? wow. also im going camping this weekend, so i may not get the next update posted on time but ill try my best!! sorry this one's kinda short. next one should be better!!

The car ride was spent mostly in silence. Hamilton hadn’t asked for clarification, but Thomas had still told him that Washington was allowing him to work from home for the time Alex would be spending in Monticello. Thomas almost hoped Hamilton would argue, that familiar spark reigniting in his eyes as a scathing remark slipped past his lips. But he only nodded, and even that motion was slight, before moving to lean against the window, brilliant brown eyes closing.

Thomas wouldn’t ever verbally admit it, but he was worried. He had always gotten bad vibes from John, though he never said anything. He and Alex fought about enough already, and he certainly didn’t want to add anything to that list. But it was rather difficult, seeing how they interacted. Alexander had always been fiery and passionate, it was what had drawn Thomas to him to begin with. The way Alex rose to a challenge, or at least used to, made him exceptionally fun to argue with. That changed when John was around.

The only time the man had ever come around the office was when he was dragging Alex home. Thomas could understand anger in that situation, as Alex did have a tendency to work non-stop for days, not getting any sleep or food. But the sounds that came from the office always seemed to go beyond that of an ordinary couple’s quarrel. They emerged, John dragging Alexander by the wrist, and Alex determinedly staring at the floor. Thomas swore he sometimes saw him shaking.

Thomas had once struck up a conversation with Alex while the man was walking out with John. He’d been quiet, anxious…submissive. He’d been so strikingly not Hamilton that it had caught him off guard, enough so that John had slid in with a smile just a little too forced and dragged Alex away. Alex had turned back to look at Thomas over his shoulder, his expression unreadable, but he’d been forced to turn back to John with a sharp tug before Thomas had had the chance to try and interpret it.

His grip on the wheel tightened as they finally reached Monticello. Despite Alexander’s beliefs, Monticello was rather small. Of course, it was larger than most houses, but nowhere near the scaling mansion Hamilton had made it out to be. It was mostly brick, though with a white roof and a pair of columns surrounding the door. Forests were to either side of the building, and a small lake sat to the southeast of the entrance. Thomas of course thought it was beautiful, but more so was the look on Hamilton’s face as he soaked in everything.

He looked almost like a small child, mouth parted just slightly and brown eyes sparkling as they swooped from the columns to the forest surrounding them to the lake and back. Thomas couldn’t help but stare, a laugh escaping him when Hamilton mouthed ‘whoa…’ after finally settling his gaze on the building. He turned to Thomas at the laugh, a glare on his face though it held no real heat. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.

Thomas shook his head, snorted, “You, of course,” as he exited the car. Hamilton looked about ready to argue, fire igniting in those eyes of his once more, but it quickly went out, and Thomas barely held back a cringe as the man’s shoulders slumped. Hamilton looked absolutely exhausted. The teasing lilt that had previously been in Thomas’ voice was gone when he murmured, “Come on, Hamilton.”

＊ ＊ ＊

Alexander wrapped his arms firmly around his chest as Thomas led him through the halls of Monticello. He knew Thomas was talking, telling him things that he should probably be paying attention to, but Alex was focusing all his attention into convincing himself he was absolutely not freaking out. John would be angry if Alex stayed with Thomas, but John was gone. Still, he’d habitually sent a text to John, Eliza, and Lafayette telling them he’d be gone for a while. Lafayette and Eliza had been worried, but glad he told them instead of just vanishing without a trace. He’d almost sobbed when he realized he’d texted John.

**Jack ♡ [ 8:46 a.m. ] »** _hey jack, im gonna be gone for a little while bc of work_

**Jack ♡ [ 8:52 a.m. ] »** _oh u dont really need update texts anymore huh lmao_

**Jack ♡ [ 10:23 a.m. ] »** _i m iss yo u_

He jumped when he suddenly bumped into a solid figure, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Jefferson was stopped in front of him, turning the knob to a door next to them. He paused to shoot Alex a concerned glance before continuing, revealing a simple room with a bed, desk, and dresser. He looked up at Thomas, shifting nervously as the older man met his gaze evenly.

“It’s not much, I know, but-”

“It’s fine,” Alex murmured. The room was almost as large as the apartment he’d shared with John. It was more than enough. He was planning on waiting for Jefferson to step aside so he could enter the room and hopefully rot, but Jefferson didn’t budge. He looked like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating. Strange, since Jefferson was the type to speak his mind no matter what, other people be damned. Finally, he cleared his throat and stood to the side.

“Listen, I won’t bug you with it right now. I’m sure you’re tired. But at some point, I think we should have a chat.” With that, Jefferson turned on his heel and swept down the hall, opening the door to what Hamilton assumed to be his own bedroom. Alex stepped into the guest bedroom and shut the door, incredibly grateful for the lock he found there. Not that he thought Thomas would invade his privacy or anything, he just felt more secure knowing he could only be reached if someone got through the door and the lock.

With the door firmly shut and locked, Alex moved to sit on the bed. His heart was racing, anxiety from Jefferson’s last words causing his heart to beat a stubborn staccato against his ribs. What did Jefferson want to talk about? What if he started asking questions? Alex couldn’t tell him about his and John’s relationship, he wouldn’t understand. Sure, John had sometimes hurt him, but only because he had misbehaved and needed to be taught a lesson. Sure, he’d maybe forced himself onto Alex sometimes, but only because Alex owed it to John to let him do what he wanted. He took care of Alex, loved him even though he was a total mess, and Alex had to give him something in return. Jefferson couldn’t possibly understand such a relationship.

Alex rubbed his temples, sighing. He could really use a drink or twenty right about now. But he didn’t want to leave the room for fear Jefferson would hear him and force him to talk. He eventually opted to just pull his laptop out of his bag and write. It had always been his escape, after all. He could just work through this ridiculous break and hopefully he wouldn’t even remember he was in Monticello with Jefferson because John was dead.

Alex cracked his knuckles and began typing.


	4. cabinet battle #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they talk.  
> also, im so sorry for missing last sunday's update, and for this one being late. this chapter was super hard to write, and i dont really like it too much, but i didnt want to keep yall waiting any longer! so here it is, chapter four! alternatively titled, thomas tries™

Words had always been Alex’s escape. No matter what happened, he’d have the escape of writing. He could forget about everything else, get lost in his need to write just one more sentence, one more paragraph, one more page. He worked for a senator, so he never had a shortage of things to work on. He’d started a while ago, he wasn’t entirely sure when. His hair, having long since fallen out of the messy bun he’d put it in for work, was swept up in a messy ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. He had to work he had to _i can be useful i swear-_

A sharp knock startled Alex out of his thoughts, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. Who it was that was knocking, and the likely reason why. Alex felt his stomach twist on itself but still called out ‘come in’ in a raspy voice. He briefly looked up from his laptop screen as Jefferson walked in, holding a bowl in one hand. He sighed at the sight of Alex typing away.

“Alexander, it’s not a break if you keep working anyway…”

Alex narrowed his eyes, focused back in on his laptop. “What do you want, Jefferson?” Jefferson sighed, sauntered in and plopped down on the bed. He held out the bowl to Alex. Of course, it was macaroni. It was a running joke in the office that the pasta was the only thing Jefferson could make, seeing as his lunch always consisted of it, but Alex hadn’t thought it was actually true.

Jefferson, having seemingly read his thoughts, said, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s easy and quick to make. Now eat, you look like you haven’t in years.” Alex rolled his eyes at the obvious exaggeration, but nevertheless took the bowl. He hesitantly scooped some up, but was pleasantly surprised to find that it was actually not horrible. Having realized this (and the fact that he was actually quite hungry), Alexander began to dig in with vigor, causing Jefferson to chuckle.

Alex looked up at Jefferson, ready to demand what he found so humorous, but the words caught in his throat. Jefferson’s eyes were shut lightly, a genuine smile replacing his typical smirk as his chuckles slowly began to taper off. Cheeks heating up, Alex stared hard at the bowl as he took another bite. There was awkward silence before Jefferson cleared his throat, and Alex swore he could detect a faint blush resting on the other man’s cheeks.

“Listen, Alex, I know you probably don’t want to talk about this…” Alex stiffened at the phrase, his stomach churning with anxiety. But he forced himself to keep a neutral face. He’d done things he didn’t want to before.

_don’t you think you owe me for all i do for you?_

_you can’t be completely useless. you can be good for me, right alex?  
_

Shaky, shaky, shaky hands hidden by his death grip on the bowl, trembling arms pressing into his legs to try to subdue them. Jefferson’s gaze softened as he noticed, but he continued. “Alexander, did John…”

_i only do it because i love you, alex_

“...ever…”

_you can behave, right?_

“...abuse…”

_ruined, ruined, ruined youre **ruined**_

“...you?”

_destroy everything you touch dont touch me dont touch me dont touch me-_

A hand on Alex’s knee has him reeling backwards, his back slamming into the headboard of the bed and sending the bowl he’d previously had an iron grip on crashing to the floor. “Don’t touch me-” Alex almost hissed the words out, the venom in them burning his tongue. His heart was pounding furiously at his ribs and he felt ten miles away from himself. “ _Don’t_.” Jefferson’s hands go up in a gesture of surrender, and Alex wants to vomit because that gentle understanding is back and Jefferson can’t know he just doesn’t understand Alex has to make him understand. “John loved me, he would never-”

“Alex…”

“I just-just needed to _behave_ , if I was _good_ John wouldn’t have hurt me-”

“Alex.”

“I got what I deserved, I couldn’t ever behave, that’s all, he would’ve never-”

“Alex!” The word was sharp, piercing his fogged mind and bringing him back to himself, if only a little. The ten miles have shortened to three and it’s enough for him to see Jefferson, crouched in front of him, one hand cautiously placed on his knee. Jefferson, with worry dancing in his warm brown eyes, eyes he could fall into. Jefferson, whose hand against his knee sent warmth dancing to his very fingertips, even as a corner of his mind murmured unhappily about how upset John would be. _johns gone hes dead and im ruined_

_destroy everything i touch_

“John…” Alex crumpled in on himself, hands tightly clutching the blanket of the bed they were still sitting on to hide the trembling. It didn’t work, his whole body was trembling and Jefferson had to see that. “John…wouldn’t have done that…” John was always so good. In the beginning of their relationship, he’d looked at Alex like he hung the stars, like he was the sun after weeks of rain. It was Alex, with his constant need for validation and attention, with his self-destructive tendencies, that had broken John down, destroyed _everything i touch_ that beautiful smile and forced John to treat him like he did. It wasn’t abuse, it was Alex’s fault. He couldn’t control his own issues, and it had ruined John. It was only fair that John ruined him, too. He feels himself being pulled into a warm body, and wow he really needs to work on not rambling his thoughts because he’d just said all of that _out loud to Thomas fucking Jefferson_. But in that moment, Thomas wasn’t judging him for having mental health issues, Thomas wasn’t laughing at him, wasn’t agreeing that, yeah, he deserved what John did because he was literal scum. Thomas just held him, shh’ing him and Alex realized he was crying.

Alex wrapped his arms around himself, couldn’t bring himself to touch Thomas more than he already was because John Laurens had been beautiful but Thomas Jefferson was stunning and alive in every sense of the word. So completely different from Alex, who had been dead long before John and was buried with him. Alex rested his head against Thomas’ chest. He was sure the other man would quickly come to his senses and kick him out, now that he knew how fucked up Alex was, and he’d take what he could get now. His heart slowly stopped it’s rampage against his chest, his shaking tapered off, and without rushing blood draining out all other sounds, Alex realized Thomas was talking.

“It wasn’t your fault, darlin’. You didn’t deserve that, I promise you. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Shhh…I’m here.”

Alex always thought he’d hated Thomas. They certainly had argued enough before John to justify the feeling, and Thomas had always acted like the mere sight of Alex disgusted him. But sitting here, with Thomas’ arms around him, feeling safe and secure for the first time in years, Alex thought maybe he could get used to this.


	5. helpless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told yall id maybe get this one up early!! one day early still counts right? and thanks so much for the comments, yall are too kind! ive read through this chapter once, but let me know if there are any mistakes! also, unrelated to this story, ive got an idea for a multichap lams fic, got some of the first chapter written already, and i was wondering if any of yall would be interested in that? lemme know how you like the idea, and the chapter!!

John hadn’t always been…abusive (Alex is still hesitant to use the word, hesitant to put the blame on anyone but himself) like he was during the last three years of his relationship with Alex. When they’d first met in college, as roommates, they’d grown into fast friends. Alex was good at hiding things, but John was perceptive, noticed things that seemed off about Alex. How he always wore long sleeves, how he survived purely off of coffee and alcohol, how he never slept. How he was so scared of forming relationships because he was so scared of being abandoned, convinced everyone would leave. And really, with him losing his mother, father, cousin, brother, and hometown all in the early years of his youth, who could blame him?

John noticed these things. John took care of Alex when he got a little too drunk, cleaned his wounds when he spoke his opinions a little too loud, cleaned his wounds when his mind spoke a little too loud, made sure he actually ate and slept. John took care of him, and Alex fell in love with John and his kindness and his patience and everything about the man. His smile, his laugh, his freckles. Alex fell in love with John, and John fell in love with Alex too.

But someone can only take so much of having to babysit an adult. What was endearing to John at eighteen became annoying, to frustrating, to enraging at twenty-two, three, four. Alex broke John down, and he regretted it more than anything in this life. How could he possibly say what John did was abuse, when it was all justified? How could Alex possibly blame John for anything he’d done when Alex was getting what he deserved, for _destroy everything i touch_ shattering that smile.

Of course, sickening, disgusting doubt crawled up his throat when he was around Jefferson. Jefferson, who supposedly hated him, but made him feel so much more than John ever had in those last three years. Jefferson, who he’d argued with since their first encounter, but had helped him now through several panic attacks and never pressed him after asking that first time. Jefferson, who would probably kick him out if he found Alex curled up with a bottle of whiskey and bloody wrists but he couldn’t help it because John had abused him and he was stuck in Monticello with _Jefferson_ and he couldn’t _work_ so what fucking _worth_ did he have?

Tears were rolling down his cheeks when he started this ridiculous pity party of his, but they had long since dried up. He felt empty, watched blood drip down his arm as the half empty bottle of whiskey sat next to him. He hadn’t relapsed in quite some time, but he was at a loss on what to do anymore. Being here, with Jefferson, with what he made him feel, Alex was overwhelmed, and he had to get some of it out. Writing usually helped, to an extent, but the words weren’t pulling everything out of him like they were supposed to. They weren’t ridding him of the emotions that were trapped swirling around his head, and Alex couldn’t stand it. He was too _full_ , had to get rid of some of it. And while he’d been told by everyone, by John, Lafayette, and Eliza that it was unhealthy and wouldn’t help in the end, it was effective in the moment, everything he needed to keep from going insane.

He was in the bathroom attached to the guest bedroom Jefferson had given him. His door was locked, as was the door to the bathroom. There was no way Jefferson could barge in. And besides, he’d dealt with himself on bad nights before. He’d learned quickly how to hide these little breakdowns after John started reacting to them with anger rather than comfort. After he’d had his fill of watching red globs slide down his arm, Alex stood, grabbing the alcohol as well. He took another swig, just to ensure that the buzz he had would last even just a little longer. Anything to keep him from thinking. He stashed the bottle in his bag he’d brought with him, zipping it shut for good measure. With that done, he rummaged through the cupboards of the bathroom and found some gauze pads and wrap. He used the pads to clean his cuts with some water, before drying his wrist off and wrapping it with the gauze.

Finally finished, Alex sat curled up on the bed. There was a nice buzz thrumming through him, his chest warm and his thoughts far too scattered to focus on any of the things that have been tearing him apart. And while he was sure the hangover tomorrow would be more than enough to make him regret breaking his sober streak, at the moment he couldn’t be bothered to care.

＊ ＊ ＊

The first thing Alex became aware of upon waking up was a splitting headache. He groaned, certain that the hangover was what had woken him up, though the assumption was quickly disproved by the second thing he became aware of.

“Go away, Jefferson,” Alex muttered, trying to drown out the incessant knocking on the door. Alex didn’t want to get up and deal with the repercussions of last night, and he certainly didn’t want to deal with Jefferson of all people. Despite Alex’s desperate attempts to ignore the other man, Thomas was being particularly stubborn in his conquest to pound his own door off its hinges and even called out an ‘open up, Hamilton!’ for good measure. With a long-suffering sigh, Alex forced himself to his feet, taking a moment to recover from the dizziness that had struck him immediately upon standing. He staggered over to the door, unlocking and opening it with an exaggerated huff.

The sight of Jefferson sobered him up a little, brought him back to himself and wiped away the attitude he’d been about to throw at the man. Jefferson looked worried, hair uncharacteristically frazzled and eyes bright with concern.

“Hamilton!” he barked as soon as the door was opened, forcing his way into the room. “It’s like 11:30 you never sleep in like this do you have any idea how-” He cut himself off when he actually paused to look at Alexander. The man had deep bags under his eyes and his face looked pinched. His breath (more like the entire room) reeked of alcohol, but what unnerved Thomas more than anything else was the sliver of white Thomas could see peeking out from the sleeve of Alexander’s sweater. “What happened?” Thomas questioned gently, voice softening. Alexander seemed immediately uncomfortable at the change in tone, shifting restlessly from foot to foot and tugging his sleeve down when he noticed Thomas staring.

“N-nothing.” Alex’s voice was as unsteady as he looked, and it did nothing to assuage Thomas’ concerns. Thomas cautiously moved his hands to place them on Alex’s shoulders, relieved when the smaller man didn’t flinch away. Thomas looked into his eyes, even as Alex squirmed under the intense observation.

“Alex, please don’t lie to me.”

Alex was scared. Scared to tell Jefferson, because he didn’t want to be kicked out and scared of how he’d react if he didn’t kick Alex out. But Jefferson had been so understanding so far, so kind and so not John that maybe his reaction to this would be not John too. So, taking a deep, calming breath, Alex began speaking. “Last night…was k-kind of bad..and I…I relapsed. A-and broke my streak, b-but I didn’t mean to I sw-swear I’m sorry-” He was cut off by Thomas pulling him into a hug. Alex froze for a moment, fear and doubt and guilt burning acid in his throat, but he was weak. Alex sagged into the embrace, tears burning behind his eyes.

“Alex…you should’ve come talked to me. I could’ve helped.” Thomas’ voice isn’t harsh, not a reprimand like Alex would’ve expected. Just sad, concerned. Alex felt a hand gently stroke through his hair and practically purred at the contact.

“I didn’t wanna…” Alex hesitated, feeling small, feeling uncertain still. “Didn’t want you to kick me out or something…”

Thomas’ grip on him tightened. “I would never.” And Alex almost sobbed at that, because he sounded so certain, so sure, and Alex felt something bubbling up in his chest, sickeningly sweet and warm and better than anything he’d ever felt with John. So, because when had Alex ever had any sort of impulse control, Alex leaned up connected his lips with Jefferson’s. The Virginian froze briefly but then kissed back, somehow managing to be passionate and gentle at the same time. After a moment, Thomas pulled back, and Alex almost whimpered, but Jefferson kept his arms wrapped around him and was shushing him gently. “It’s okay, Alex. You don’t have to say anything right now. It’s okay.”

But Alexander shook his head, insisted on talking. “No, I ha-have to tell you. I love you, Thomas, I wanna stay with you, I don’t wanna think about John anymore, _please_ -” Thomas pressed fluttering kisses along Alex’s cheeks, shushing him again, moving to place a final kiss against Alex’s forehead.

“ _It’s okay_ , Alexander. Just relax. I won’t go anywhere.” And Thomas laid him down in the bed, climbs in after him and smiled at how Alex immediately pressed up against him, resting his head against the broader man’s chest. Thomas gently grabbed Alex’s wrist, revealing the bandage there, and Alex looked ready to cry as Thomas placed a soft kiss against the wrapped area, handling it with the utmost care, handling Alex with the utmost care, and it made Alex feel so warm.

Thomas could hardly believe what had just happened. He’d had a crush on Alexander since the first day he met him, something that had developed into what Thomas could only describe as love. But Alex was with John, and Thomas was his enemy. He’d had no right to interfere. And even now, he was worried that he was taking advantage of the younger man at a time of fragility. But for now, Alex was breathing evenly, he seemed content, and Thomas was more than happy to just lay there with him. They could talk later. For now, they were content to both just simply _be_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont normally have notes at the end, but i needed?? to say this??? this fic just got 600 hits and that is utterly mind blowing to me. i cant believe so many people are also trash and chose to be trash by reading my fic. so thank you so much for that. as always, you can come yell at me on tumblr @seudohero. yall are great and beautiful and ily


	6. say no to this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> make an update schedule, i said  
> itll make me actually update on time, i said  
> im so sorry this took so long, my own bpd was kicking my ass lmao but!! at long last chapter 6 is here, and to make up for lost time its almost twice as long as my usual chapters! enjoy, and again im sorry it took so long!

When Alex woke up to the sensation of warm arms wrapped around him, his initial reaction was panic. John was dead, and he was in Monticello, so who in the world could be-? His train of thought was derailed as he remembered what had happened earlier, as he remembered _Thomas_ , who was currently still asleep with a protective arm wrapped around Alex. The contact made Alex squirm; John hadn’t been dead a month, and he was already trying to hook up with someone? A small corner of his mind argued that, no, Thomas wouldn’t ever be a one night stand, not to Alex, that Thomas meant something, meant more than what he and John had had in those last few years. Alex must have shifted one too many times, because Thomas let out a sleepy groan and minutely tightened his grip on Alex.

“It’s okay, Alex. Go back to sleep, darlin’.” And damn if that didn’t make Alex’s heart skip a beat, make his breath go a little funny. Because even asleep, Jefferson sounded so...confident in his words, so unhesitant, so...

So...

It wasn’t something Alex was ready to face, wasn’t something Alex thought he’d ever be ready to face. He didn’t want to think about how Thomas made him feel, didn’t want to think about the fact that the warm feeling in his chest whenever Thomas held him couldn’t be anything other than...

Than…

Because, everyone Alex felt that for left him. In some way or another. Lafayette, Eliza, John…and he couldn’t blame any of them for it, it had hurt, but he understood. Because Alex was more than aware of his problems, more than aware of how they broke people down. And he had the gall to call _John_ selfish. Alex couldn’t feel that for Thomas, couldn’t let whatever feelings Thomas had for him develop any further. Alex had to stop this here, cut this off right now because Alex didn’t want Thomas to leave but more than that, Alex couldn’t bear to break down Thomas, couldn’t shatter Thomas’ smile because he was too selfish to say no to this. Alex very carefully extricated himself from Thomas’ arms, making sure to not wake him. Alex sat on the edge of the bed, as far away from Thomas as he could get, and curled in on himself.

He just had to survive another month and a half here. He’d managed far worse.

With all that in mind, Alex quietly exited the room, padding back to the guest room. His laptop was still there, the only constant in his life, so he could just write until he was allowed to go back to work. Or until he finally keeled over, whichever came first. The motions of typing are comforting in their familiarity. He could already feel himself slipping in sweet, blissful numbness. Usually the emptiness was painful, scooping everything out of him and leaving him ringingly hollow. But now, he couldn’t help but be grateful for it. It meant he didn’t have to feel, meant he didn’t feel that typical anger at himself for destroying _everything i touch_ another relationship before it really had the chance to start or the panic at the thought that he was being abandoned again he would be alone. Sure, he stared at the screen without really seeing it, and yes he had no idea what he was writing, but it was something.

Despite his best efforts to keep a firm lid on his emotions and the man who had thrown them even further out of balance, thoughts of Thomas still filtered through. Maybe…maybe Thomas would really be able to accept him? Maybe he really did l- care about him. But that thought is immediately pushed aside, because that’s ridiculous. John had said so himself, and Alex had already believed it long before anyone had told him verbally.

_no one could ever love me. im a mess. pathetic, disgusting-_

His thoughts were cut off by a knock on the door. Panic immediately flooded Alex’s system. He was so not ready for this conversation. But it had to be done. He took a deep breath, kept typing. The word document was a mess of thoughts and various curses, but it was something else for him to focus on other than the paralyzing fear. His voice absolutely did not crack when he told Thomas to come in. When the other man did enter the room, the tension within it became almost stifling.

Thomas cautiously moved towards the bed, perching on the edge of it, almost as if he sensed Alex’s need to not be touched right now. “Alex? Are you ok?”

“I’m fine.” Alex’s response is short, not quite angry but certainly not friendly. Thomas looked surprised for a moment before quickly schooling his expression into a more neutral one, not wanting to set Alex off.

However, leaving things as they were now? Completely unacceptable. “Why did you leave?” It seemed like a simple question, harmless enough that Alex would be compelled to actually answer honestly.

“Why would I stay?” Alex countered with a derisive snort, and ouch. That hurt, but Thomas knew this dance, knew the moves because he’d done it before himself. He wasn’t going to let Alex do this to himself.

“Because that’s what I plan to do.” Thomas made sure his voice was steady, no signs of deceit or hesitance. He saw Alex tense even more, hands briefly pausing over the keyboard of his laptop before continuing on.

“You don’t mean that.” Thomas swore he felt his heart breaking. He wanted to reach out, wanted to hold Alex and convince him of the fact that yes, he really did love him. That he wasn’t going anywhere. But Thomas also knew that touch would be ill-received right now, knew that he had to-and would-convince Alex with his words.

“I do,” Thomas assured, daring to scoot the tiniest bit closer. “I absolutely do mean that. Alex, I lo-”

“No!” Before the word was even fully out of Thomas’ mouth, Alex was reeling backwards, laptop momentarily forgotten as the smaller man scrambled off the bed, squeezing into the corner of the room and sinking to his knees. Thomas could see tears welling up in Alex’s panicked eyes. “You can’t! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t! I’ll ruin you!” Alex’s hands were gripping his own arms, the nails digging harshly into the skin. “I’ll ruin you just like John and you’ll leave just like everyone else you _can’t_ -” A sob ripped its way out of the man’s throat, shattered and rough. Thomas slowly got up, moved to where Alex was. He didn’t seem to even notice the Virginian approach. Thomas knelt down next to him, carefully placed his hands on his shoulders, pulled him into a hug when he was met with no flinches, no resistance. “Y-you…I can’t…”

Thomas tightened his hold on the younger man. “Alex. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, and I’m not leaving. You won’t ruin anything. What happened with John wasn’t your fault, and I won’t ever treat you like he did. I will not leave. Unless you really want me to?”

At that, Alex practically threw his arms around Thomas, gasping out between sobs “Don’t leave, please don’t leave, I’m sorry, don’t go” and Thomas only held him tighter. Carding a hand through his loose brown hair, shh’ing and murmuring reassurances. He placed a gentle kiss on Alex’s forehead before carefully standing, picking Alex up with him. Settling them both back down on the bed, Thomas closed Alex’s laptop and set it on the bedside table. For a little while, they simply laid there. Alex’s sobs tapered off, leaving him sniffling and snuggled against Jefferson’s chest. The peaceful silence was broken by Alex himself. “You…we never talked. About John, what he did.”

Thomas gave Alex a reassuring squeeze. “We don’t have to do that until you’re ready, Lex.” A small smile appeared on Alex’s face at the nickname, but he still looked determined.

“I don’t think…I can’t say all of it. Right now,-”

“That’s fine-”

“-but some of it…” Alex fidgeted nervously. No one knew about the scars he was going to show Thomas. Not Eliza, not even Lafayette. Shame and fear and hurt had always kept them hidden. Even now, even when they were all Alex had left of John, his dear Jack, Alex had trouble looking at them. They made him feel dirty, used. He looked up at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder, feeling that ball of discomfort and anxiety loosen some at Thomas’ easy smile, as if they were talking about the weather and not John Laurens. Before he could change his mind again, before he or Thomas could talk him out of it, Alex lifted his shirt. John had always loved marking his torso, after all. Easy access, easy to hide…

He tensed at Thomas’ gasp of horror. He knew the worst was the scar just below and to the side of his left ribs, the one that consisted of John’s signature. Done after that night, when John had gotten angry at him for visiting Lafayette, the first night he’d really-the night he’d marked Alex as _his_. He shivered at the feeling of a finger, Thomas, gently tracing the letters. _J Lau_. Meaningless, to anyone who didn’t know Alex, didn’t know John. Horrifying for those who did. Of course, there were plenty of other scars on his chest. Some just random, meaningless lines or blotches, but there were some other words, too. _Ruined_ and _slut_ and _whore_ and _mine_. _Broken_ , right across his heart and wasn’t that ironic? Thomas’ hand eventually settled pressed against that scar, eyes misty, as if Alex was actually worth crying about. “Oh, Alex…”

“It’s fine,” Alex heard himself say, from some distant, far off place. “It’s not that bad.” And he felt himself get pulled into a hug once again, felt Thomas quivering against him and wrapped his own arms around the taller man because Thomas didn’t deserve to be upset, shouldn’t be upset because of someone like Alex.

“It’s not _fine_ , Alex, none of this is fine. You didn’t deserve this, I wish I could’ve helped…” And Alex knew what that train of thought led to and wouldn’t let Thomas do that, so he kissed him. It was tender, gentle, _loving_ and it didn’t make Alex want to run away screaming. It actually made him feel safe, and warm, and maybe Thomas wasn’t lying. Maybe he didn’t have to say no to this, and maybe they’d be ok. With Thomas’ arms wrapped around him, accepting even the very worst of him, it was easier to believe.


	7. the world turned upside down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was for some reason rlly hard to write? and its not my best work but i wanted to get it out on time so i got through it! honestly the things i do for u guys. anyway i read through it once but let me know if i made any mistakes! enjoy!

The rest of the time spent at Monticello was incredible. Thomas made Alexander feel loved, made him feel like he wasn’t some horrible person unworthy of love. Thomas coaxed Alex into sharing Thomas’ master bedroom with him. Didn’t kick him out on nights when sleep just wouldn’t come, when Alex had to write or he felt he would break apart entirely. Didn’t kick him out on the nights that sleep did come, but was interrupted by memories of pain and fear and _Jack_ , or worse memories of before. Before Alex’s mental health broke John down. Before John…

Before.

On those nights, Thomas would hold him, and he would _listen_. Wouldn’t try to interrupt Alex’s desperately murmured self-deprecation as he tried to rationalize what happened to him. Would listen, and when Alex was too sore and tired to continue, Thomas would tell him about everything Alex did that made him fall in love with him. Every little quirk, every little idiosyncrasy. His eyes. His smile. His passion. The way he lit up and rambled on about whatever he deemed worthy of that passion. In return, Alex would tell Thomas how he’d always cared about him, even though his ideas were terrible and wrong(Thomas rolled his eyes fondly at that), how he’d had a bit of a crush on him and had expressed it as hate because if John had found out…

They learn about each other, too. In the way that only people who live together can know each other. Jefferson learned that, while getting him to actually fall asleep was rather difficult, Alex was a hesitant to wake up after sleeping. The Virginian had always been an early bird, and quickly learned that Alex couldn’t really function in the morning before nine. Alex learned that Thomas, despite the macaroni jokes, was actually a decent cook, and that he typically made a nice, homecooked dinner. Thomas learned that, while he couldn’t cook to save his life, Alex was rather skilled at baking. He’d made flan for Thomas one night, a recipe his mother had taught him that used prunes and coconuts, and it was over that meal that Alex opened up about his past.

Thomas had known the basics, of course. That he was an orphan, that he immigrated from Nevis after a hurricane. But that was it. Alex was usually rather tight-lipped about what happened before he got to America. Hearing the man talk about how his mother had died while he was in her arms, how his brother had abandoned him and his cousin had committed suicide right in front of Alex, all before a hurricane completely destroyed his hometown, it only made Thomas want to protect the man more. Alex had been through so much, it was no wonder he wasn’t the poster child of mental health. Thomas knew how hard it was for Alex to talk about his past, would’ve known even without seeing Alex’s shaking hands and glazed, misty eyes.

In exchange, Thomas told Alex about Martha. How she’d been beautiful, the love of his life. How she, and the child she’d been pregnant with, had died from complications during labor. Alex had leaned against Thomas’ side, offering silent support, and Thomas had rested his cheek against the top of Alex’s head. They sat in silence, both comforting each other by being there, by having listened without judging or prying further.

Yes, the last month of Monticello was one of the best months Alexander had ever had. But it had to end, as everything good in his life did.

The two month forced break was over, and both he and Thomas had to go back to work. And Alex wouldn’t ever admit it, knew that would only make it worse, but he was terrified. He and Jefferson had never put a label on their…relationship, hadn’t ever had that conversation. And now, now Alex would have to go back to work, where they were rivals, where they would bicker and fight and then after work he’d go home to a house filled with nothing but memories and he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay, not in Monticello but with Jefferson, with whatever this newfound closeness was, didn’t want to go back to harsh words and cold glares. But he knew Jefferson had only dealt with him because he’d been forced to bring Alex to Monticello, knew that Thomas had only acted like he cared because Alex had been on the verge of a breakdown every minute of the day. Knew that once they got back, everything would go back to how it was before, and he just had to suck it up and deal with that.

Of course, his version of ‘dealing with it’ wasn’t really considered healthy, since it consisted of staying in his office and working as much as he could. On some nights, he didn’t even go home at all, just stayed in his office and worked through the night because that house was too quiet and too full and Alex couldn’t deal with it. He found himself craving Jefferson’s calm, reassuring presence an embarrassingly large amount of the time, but refused to further burden the man into dealing with him, or further manipulate him into caring. Thomas had better things to do. Thomas didn’t need and most likely didn’t want Alex around.

With this thought process, Alex is justifiably surprised when a knock on his office door reveals Thomas himself, looking frazzled and like he hadn’t really expected Alex to answer. With a gulp, Alex forced himself to hold eye contact. “What do you want, Thomas?” He cursed himself for using the man’s first name out of habit.

“I want you to move in with me.” Alex choked on his own spit at that, peering up at Thomas through the coughs. The man looked dead serious, no hint of joking or hesitance in his gaze, and Alex felt something bubbling up in his chest.

“I-you-... _what_?” Alex spluttered, and then added after a moment of thinking, “Is this the best time for this conversation?”

“It’s the only time I can talk to you!” Thomas shot back. “I’m surprised you actually answered this time.” Alex tilted his head at that, confused because he was quite certain no one had come knocking at his office door before. Well, maybe Washington, telling him he should head home soon, but never Thomas. Of course, with how absorbed Alex tended to get in his work, there were times where he wouldn’t notice an alien invasion. “And I want you to move in with me.”

Alex felt that bubbly feeling increase, compressing his chest uncomfortably. “No. No, you really don’t.”

“I do!” Thomas insisted. “Alex, what happened at Monticello between us…I don’t want to lose that. I love you, and I want to be with you.” And Alex turned his gaze to the ground, not making a sound save for shaky breaths, not moving an inch save for trembling. And then he shoved past Jefferson in a burst of movement. He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, but he knew that he had to get out of there, because he couldn’t deal with the idea that Thomas actually cared about him, that he actually wanted him around and that he wasn’t going to leave. He couldn’t move in with another man this soon after, Jack would be so angry, would hate him even more than he already had, and Alex couldn’t deal with that.

He found himself entering the bathroom, blissfully empty, and crashed into the nearest stall. Locking it, Alex slid down the wall. He vaguely recognized the bubbly feeling now, knew it was panic, that he was having a panic attack, but he didn’t have the energy to fight it off. He let it wash over him, blinding him to all of his surroundings and his last coherent thought was thinking he heard the door opening and his name being called.


	8. stay alive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is almost done, guys!! i think the next chapter will be the last one. but dont worry, ive got another fic idea floating around ;)
> 
> anyway, as per usual i read through it once but im very tired so i may have missed something. let me know if i made any mistakes, and as always, enjoy!

He was drowning. Drowning because that hurricane that destroyed his town followed him, it was angry that he’d survived, that he hadn’t died like he deserved, so it followed him to America and made him suffer. Made everyone leave, or die, because that was what happened to the people he loved. They left. Or they died. And Alex ended up alone, again. And without the words ever being said, with no confessions of love ever being spoken, it was easy to pretend. Pretend that everything was okay and not think about what it meant that his heart fluttered whenever Thomas was around.

Waves were lapping against him, crashing and sweeping him away along with his home and everything was gone and everyone was gone and why had he let himself fall in love again? Why did he _destroy everything i touch_ have to destroy this too? Alex’s hands found their way into his hair, pulling harshly and he was shaking apart and he couldn’t _breathe_ there wasn’t any _air_ it was just water, water, _water_ -

A hand on his shoulder, making him leap up and backwards because he thought he heard Thomas calling for him and Thomas walking in and Thomas shouldn’t touch someone like Alex, shouldn’t be around someone like Alex, because anyone around Alex got killed or hurt or left and Alex didn’t want any of that for Thomas but he’d rather Thomas leave than Thomas die he couldn’t lose anyone else he’d lost his father and his mother and his brother and his cousin and Jack and he couldn’t lose anyone else he couldn’t he couldn’t _breathe_ , it was just _water_ -

Alex distantly realized he was crying, ugly, body-shaking sobs that tore through him and that hand on his shoulder was joined by another as they came to his own hands, yanking his hair. The hands gently pried Alex’s from their death grips, held onto them to prevent them from doing further damage and Alex squirmed because he was crying in front of someone and he hated doing that and his chest was so tight and he still couldn’t fucking _bre a th e_ -

“-need to breathe, Alex, you’re not breathing! Can you hear me? You have to breathe-” A sharp inhale, and Alex swore his lungs were burning, that someone had thrown a lit match down his throat. But it didn’t matter, _Alex_ didn’t matter, _Alex_ wasn’t important but _Thomas_ was and Alex couldn’t destroy Thomas like he had John, he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t

Alex launched back, feeling his back slam into the wall and it snapped everything into clarity, just a little bit, just enough to really see the bathroom stall he was falling apart in, enough to see Thomas crouched down in front of him like he actually meant anything. Thomas looked alarmed, almost scared with worry, and Alex began shaking his head furiously, hands digging into his arms and the pain was grounding. “Don’t-- _don’t_ , please I can’t you’ll leave you’ll die I can’t _please_ \--” And Thomas looked almost understanding, as if anything Alex had said actually made sense to him and Alex closed his eyes against it because he couldn’t handle Thomas being nice to him anymore, he had to want something and Alex couldn’t give it to him because he didn’t have anything left to give and _even if he wanted Thomas he didn’t want Thomas to die or leave and he_ **_would_** \--

“Alex! Listen to me, darling. Easy. Breathe.” A gentle ( always gentle, treating him with such care, care he hadn’t been shown in so long care he didn’t know how to accept care he didn’t deserve ) hand came and lifted his chin, forcing Alex to make eye contact with Jefferson. Thomas had done it a lot back in Monticello, when Alex had been convinced that Thomas hated him or was mad at him. Forcing Alex to make eye contact allowed him to see that nothing but adoration and worry was there, no anger or fear or anything else Alex worried about seeing. Alex was still crying, he was trembling, and he wanted to run again because anything would be easier than having this conversation. But apparently Thomas wanted to have this conversation, because he looked determined to continue. “Alex, I won’t leave you. I’m not going anywhere. As long as I’m alive, I’ll be here, with you.” And Alex would normally argue, because he was Alexander Hamilton he lived to argue, especially with Thomas Jefferson, but he didn’t want to. Alex had been fighting his entire life. Alex didn’t want to have to fight anymore.

And so, he leaned forward, resting himself against Jefferson, and whispered, “Okay.” And Thomas seemed to understand the depth held in that single word, because he grinned real wide and wrapped his arms around Alex and promised he’d stay, that he wouldn’t let Alex down or abandon him or anything and Alex just listened. Let himself believe, just for a moment, ( only a moment wouldn’t hurt, right? ) that maybe Thomas really did want him around and maybe Thomas really would stay.

 

✿ ✿ ✿

 

Having learned their lesson from the whole mishap ( Thomas didn’t like when Alex called it a mishap. Said it trivialized the issue. He hadn’t liked it when Alex had told him that was how he dealt with everything, either. ), they talked. Put a label on the relationship, and to Alex ‘boyfriend’ trivialized what Thomas really was to him, but when Thomas had suggested lovers Alex had gotten pale and had looked like he was going to vomit, so they’d stuck with boyfriends. Which, seriously, Alex didn’t mind, because the label was for Thomas’ sake more than his own, because Thomas could actually be rather insecure at times and having the nature of their relationship explicitly stated between them made Thomas more sure of himself in their dynamic.

Moving in, while it was better in the long run and both of them were happy about it, was difficult. Because Alex had so long been conditioned to believe that spending time with anyone else made him disgusting, made him a whore because if he was with anyone other than Jack than he was cheating and wow, Alex, you just can’t keep it in your pants can you? there were moments where Alex would stop, insist that they had to put everything back because he couldn’t move in with anyone else because it would make Jack hate him and Jack had hated him so much already and Alex didn’t want him to hate him any more. Thomas was patient and kind, gently reminding Alex that Jack had been wrong, not Alex, that him moving out of that house was for the best and there was nothing wrong with it.

Thomas was simultaneously grateful and saddened by how little Alex had. It all fit in a single suitcase, just some clothes and his laptop, and a backpack, a ratty little thing that looked almost as old as Alex himself. It had been in a drawer, locked so that Jack would have never been able to get to it. At Thomas’ silent question, Alex had said it was books, ones his mamá had owned that he’d almost lost back on Nevis, and he kept them with him always because they were all he had left of her. Thomas had smiled gently, wrapped the arm that wasn’t carrying Alex’s other bag around the smaller man’s waist and led him out of the house. Alex hadn’t even realized he had been crying until they’d gotten to Thomas’ apartment and the Virginian had turned to him and carefully wiped away the tears.

They had another talk, once Alex’s stuff was all put away, and Thomas told Alex that from then on they had to be open with each other. Told Alex that he should’ve talked to him after Monticello instead of assuming Thomas wanted nothing more to do with him. Alex agreed to try his best to talk about instead of running away from his feelings, and Thomas promised to be as understanding and patient as possible. There were only two things Thomas really put his foot down on. No more alcohol, of any kind ( “Not even a sip, Alex, you can’t control yourself.” ) and Alex was to talk to Thomas if he felt the need to self-harm. It was understood that relapses would happen, they always did, but Thomas wanted Alex to suffer as little as possible, Thomas wanted to help, and Alex had agreed to both in a heartbeat. As difficult as it would be, Alex was pretty sure he would’ve found a way to bring the moon down to Earth if Thomas asked him to.

Thomas talked to him about that, as well. Told him it was okay to say no, that he had no sense of obligation when it came to sex. That they never had to do anything Alex didn’t want to. And Alex had looked a little disbelieving at that, had frankly looked like that through a lot of their talks. Doubtful and exhausted, almost as if he were asking through body language alone when Thomas was going to give up on him and leave like everyone else.

But Thomas wasn’t leaving. And it was okay if Alex didn’t quite believe that yet, because Thomas had plenty of time to convince him.


	9. satisfied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so im posting this early!! or well early for me bc its still saturday but its the last chapter!!! and im!!! excited!! so as always, i read through it but if you notice any mistakes let me know, and enjoy!! and for those interested, therell be a ridiculously mushy end note. for those who arent, basically, thanks for sticking with this fic <3

Things weren’t perfect. Of course, neither one of them had really expected it to be. Perfection wasn’t truly something that could be achieved, and certainly not when it came to love, but things were better. Not as good as they could be, but improving. Alex was convinced that Thomas was the most patient man alive, something he sometimes saw humor in the irony of because wasn’t it just a few months ago that he’d thought of Thomas as frustrating and impossible? Thought of _Thomas_ as _Jefferson_? And yet, contrary to what their meetings made Alex believe, Thomas was unbelievably patient.

When Alex was having a bad day, and asked Thomas _why do you care?_ or _why do you stay?_ or when he tried to push the other man away, Thomas listened. Let Alex scream and cry and vent without interruption, until it was all out, and them told him that it was okay, that he loved Alex and he wasn’t going anywhere. When Alex had a _really_ bad day and ended up relapsing, Thomas hadn’t reacted with anger. Well, not after the first time, anyway, but Alex understood that. Because the first time Alex had relapsed, he had hid it out of fear. He’d been clean for months and Thomas would surely hate him for undoing all that progress, just like Jack had, and he’d thought Thomas was finally sick of him when he found out and got mad. Afterwards, while Thomas was cleaning the cuts ( something Alex had neglected to do himself ), he’d apologized to Alex and explained. Explained that he wasn’t angry at Alex for relapsing, but for not coming to him first, and then for hiding it from him and not cleaning the wounds. He told Alex that, if he couldn’t come to Thomas, if he absolutely _had_ to…well, that he took care of the wounds, and told him about it. Alex had nodded, and little by little managed to turn to Thomas before he turned to a knife, or something else.

Thomas never forced Alex into anything, either. Never made Alex feel like he had any sort of sexual obligation to him because of all he did. And he made sure Alex understood that he didn’t have to ‘pay’ for Thomas’ love. He’d almost gotten sick, the first night Alex had tried that. They’d been in bed together, and while Thomas could control when or even if he and Alex had sex, he couldn’t control the days he woke up rock hard because yes, he loved all of Alex, but _damn_ he was easy on the eyes. And when Alex had woken up and seen Thomas in such a state, he’d smiled lasciviously, and when the question of consent had been answered, Alex had been in the process of removing Thomas’ boxers before he’d said something about finally being able to pay Thomas back. Thomas had stopped him immediately, a cold stone forming in his gut at the thought that John Laurens had really made Alex feel as if he had to sell out his body to get basic human necessities such as love and care. He’d told Alex again, that he never had to ‘pay Thomas back’, not for anything, because everything Thomas did was because he absolutely loved Alex and not because he was expecting sex as payment.

It had been something completely foreign to Alex, still was sometimes, and it had taken him a while to believe it. But that was okay, because Thomas reminded him whenever he forgot or doubted. And when they finally did have sex for the first time, Thomas had taught Alex the difference between being fucked and making love.

Alex helped Thomas when he had bad days, too. While they weren’t as frequent as Alex’s, they did still happen, and Alex did his best to comfort the Virginian on those days. They stayed home together, curled up on the couch, and watched movies. Alex learned that Thomas was a total Disney bitch and Thomas learned that Alex had only seen one Disney movie, and had told the smaller man that he had catching up to do because he ‘absolutely has to see every movie, Alex, Disney movies are brilliant!’ So they ate junk food and watched Disney movies and Alex didn’t work any for once, just stayed with Thomas, and Thomas fell in love with him more and more every day, and Alex fell right after him.

The most difficult day for them was always the anniversary of that day. The day John Laurens died. Thomas told him it was unhealthy, that he had to stop to really move on, but Alex still counted down the day every year obsessively. He would lock himself in the bathroom, no matter what day it fell on, even missing work, and not come out until the next day. Thomas would do everything he could to coax his boyfriend out, or at least get him to eat, but it was all to no avail. Alex left his phone in the bedroom, only brought in a notebook and a pen and lord only knows what Alex wrote on those days, but judging from how wrecked he looked by the time he came out, Thomas wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

Thomas usually spent the day with Alex, even if the other man had no way of knowing he was there unless he spoke. Thomas would lean against the door, with his laptop so he could still work, emailing Washington to remind him what the date was and why Alex and himself weren’t there. One year, while Thomas was in the middle of typing that email, the door slowly opened. Thomas whipped around, setting his laptop to the side. Alex was standing in the doorway, and the notebook he’d always brought in with him was torn to shreds on the floor, the pages ripped and crumpled up. Thomas had risen immediately, held Alex against him as the smaller man had gasped and sobbed. Looking down at the mess, Thomas saw the top half of one of the pages still relatively intact, and felt something blazing in his chest as he read in Alex’s shaky handwriting _‘Dear John,’_. But he knew better than to bring it up, to say anything about it because it was Alex’s attempts to find closure and there was no way Thomas would be angry about that. So he had only held the man, let him break apart against his shoulder.

Thomas had been unable to hide his relief when, from then on, Alex stopped locking himself in the bathroom. Accepted Thomas’ help and let the man hold him through the day.

No, things weren’t perfect. There were bad days, there were relapses, and there were days where Jack’s voice was louder in Alex’s head than Thomas’ could ever hope to be. But they were better. And really, that was enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow. so i would like to say?? ive written things before. like, a LOT of things before. and ive never finished anything that wasnt a oneshot. so this is just??? so wild to me???? the response for this has been incredible, and every single hit, every single kudos, every single comment makes my entire week brighten up. thank you all so so much for reading this silly little self indulgent thing, and a big thank you to those of you who commented or left a kudos!!  
> and a really really big thank you to jug bc dude youre 90% of the reason i did finish this. youre awesome!! <3  
> now, to wrap things up, i have a couple ideas for more multichap fics floating around, but im not sure when theyll be up. in the meantime, if you wanna scream abt the founding fathers, this fic, or request smth, or just scream in general, you can find me on tumblr @nnonstop  
> once again, thank you, ily all, and have a lovely day/evening!!

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what im doing??? and i wrote this at like 4 am so i cant guarantee quality. but, um, i have another chapter for this in progress so let me know if you wanna see more, cool? im making this up as i go, so it may be slow, but ill do my best!!


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